New Way City.
A rather unorthodox place. Located in the state of New York, it had a breathtaking view of the ocean, and was a hot spot for newcomers from distant lands, looking for work, and looking for a place to start anew.
Unfortunately, it was also a breeding ground for crime. With the criminal family of the Borgias bribing cops to give them leniency, slaughtering rival gangsters, and much more, most of the true crime stayed underground, as the head of the gang sought to create a dynasty to last forever, and even entrust the city to his children.
Such was the goal of the man at the head of all of this; Bruno Borgia. The undisputed "King of Gangsters" the man commanded the entire crime family, and sought to unite all of the crime of New Way City under his rule, though he was clearly not against forcing them under his heel, should they choose to refuse his wishes, as the man sought to rule the concrete jungle, forever.
However, such a man inevitably attracted a much more fearsome predator, coming to claim the ruler of the concrete jungle, and prove that he was a far superior hunter…unfortunately, he underestimated the resourcefulness of man.
And, how far they'd be willing to go to win.
The riots were everywhere; cars burning and crashing, people fleeing for their lives, as mobsters and gang members gunned down other gang members out in the street, showing no reservations nor claims against wasting civilian lives, and spilling innocent blood in the crossfire. To them, it didn't matter. For they had a goal. Bruno wanted all other gangs exterminated, and they knew it was wiser to obey the wishes of the king, lest they find themselves under his heel.
CRISH!
A window shattered, as many mobsters behind a car were treated to a sudden surprise. Something had smashed right out of the window of the chapel they were shooting in front of, and bolted down the road; moving as fast as it could to get away from the church, as they stood there, utterly confused and perplexed by what they witnessed.
The figure that ran wasted no time in darting up a fire escape; clambering up it as fast as possible, before standing atop a building, as the rain poured down upon the being…a being that, when the lighting flashed, was revealed to be anything but human. Standing a great deal taller than a man, and with more defined muscles, this creature had molted, yellow hide that fitted a reptile, and fingers ending in talon-like black claws, meant for ripping apart flesh. He wore strange, almost tribalistic armor, consisting of a silvery breastplate that left his abdomen exposed, pauldrons with the left one bearing a spike, vambraces, greaves, and even armor covering his thighs, as his groin was covered by a flowing, red loincloth, completing the look with a set of metal boots, and a belt on that loincloth as well.
But, his head, was the worst part. An elongated forehead, with lengthy, thick black dreadlocks, as his mouth was a wide, arthropod like maw with four, lengthy mandibles ending with sharp, tooth-like tusks. This was the hunter of men; an invisible demon from beyond the stars; coming to Earth to hunt men and women for prey and sport, for a ritualistic honor code.
This was a Yautja…a wounded one, too.
Lime green, luminescent blood splattered and littered his body in various spots, but the most critical one was his left eye…it was completely absent; almost as if it'd been shot out by something, rendering it entirely useless. But, it was abundantly clear; this Yautja was left in a critical condition, from a hunt gone south, and was forced to handle it, as best he could.
He turned to peer over the edge, watching the humans fight amongst themselves, as they had been prior to his insertion into that chapel. Some were mildly aware of him but, they were too busy killing one another to handle it, giving him time to get back to his ship, and get offworld. He knew there would be some punishment awaiting him for revealing himself in such a humiliating and agonizing way…but he could handle it; his position in the clan at least gave him some leeway when it came to mistakes. At the very worst, he'd potentially be put on probation, but nothing further than that.
But, his priority for the moment, was fixing himself. He didn't have access to the full extent of his Medicomp, but he had a decent alternative; the Yautja reaching to his hip to yank off some sort of syringe that he plunged into his arm, feeling the slight sting of it pierce his hide, before he felt chilling, almost relieving numbness. The wounds were being cauterized from the blue liquid he just injected into his body, as he did the same to various other parts of his body; this would numb the pain and allow him to focus, but it wouldn't last forever. His ship wasn't far…he just needed to get back to it, and he'd be safe.
While that sounded hard, he had to consider his fortune. The humans were warring with one another in the streets like beasts. He could practically slip right past them, even with his cloak being disabled, and his mask being lost in the church.
While he could go retrieve it, he risked being gunned down if he did…so his only option was to go forward, and hope he could heal up, and return later to cull the ones who had it. Or, at the very least, take it back.
A withered sigh left him as he turned to move.
He leapt to the ground, remaining eye squinting in focus as he found himself in a stone courtyard. There were two humans up ahead who were, naturally, armed and ready.
SHRICK!
The two humans were no longer ready. The hunter raised his hand to catch his flung Smartdisc, returning it to his side just as the doors nearby exploded, and more humans came running out. One shouted something, but without his mask he barely understood his foe. Their postures told him enough, anyhow; they were trying to kill him.
So, he took them instead. Rushing forward, he twirled his glaive and cleaved through the foes, reducing them to nothingness as quick as he could.
A pang of pain shot through his side. The numbing agents were going to wear off soon. He couldn't waste anymore time.
Sauntering past the blown open doors, the hunter quickly realized he was indoors, and with the rain no longer able to touch him, he engaged his cloak and kept moving. There were more humans throughout the area, but he crept past them and continued; the cloak was doing its work, though given the fact the gangsters were more occupied in tearing one another asunder, his path was almost cleared for him.
He arrived at a balcony, cloak fizzing out when the rain fell upon him. Down below, he saw a police car in the road, with many cops running about, fighting the gangsters or, cruelly, one another. Steeling himself, the hunter dropped down and dented the vehicle's rear in from his landing. He paid them no mind and kept moving, rushing into an alleyway and clambering up the concrete wall with the aid of his talons and wristblades. He was further away from the combat, but the numbing agent wasn't going to last much longer.
The injured hunter came to a stop atop a flat rooftop. He needed to catch his breath and—
"GRR!" Pain shot through his stomach. The hunter planted a hand on his side and turned his head to a gangster standing there, holding one of their primitive firearms.
SHRING!
His glaive extended to its full size. Stepping forward, he impaled the human upon it and, coldly, flung him off the roof and let him plummet. It was shameful to leave behind a trophy, but he considered it a touch of revenge for shooting him in the side.
With his breath caught, and his wounds…well still throbbing with pain, he continued, navigating through the labyrinth of alleyways and ventilation ducts to reach another roof, giving him a view of another street filled with combat.
One human in particular caught his red-tinted gaze. He recognized him; the Irish Boss who worked with the 'god of gangsters'…he knew it'd be risky to pursue such a trophy in his injured state, but he had time.
So, with his mind made up, he leapt down, and grabbed the human by the neck, flinging him to the rain-soaked ground as the hunter extended his wristblades. His prey, naturally, groveled and begged for mercy, but he gave none. His blades were plunged into his prey's flesh and, without hesitation, he skinned and flayed him, swiftly moving to haul the skinless carcass somewhere high before hanging it upside down.
Now, at the very least, he'd leave a warning to the humans before he left.
He kept moving as the street fighting grew worse. The injured hunter clung to a fire escape, scaling it and reaching the top before he kept moving. His ship wasn't too far from where he was now. He was so close to healing himself properly, getting off the planet, and getting home.
The hunter kept moving, maneuvering through more alleyways and, of course, dispatching more gangsters, closing in on his ship. He climbed up to another roof, one that was drenched in flames. It seemed unsound, but if he moved fast enough, he could—
BOOOM!
The ground gave away and he plummeted. He reached out, desperate for something to grab onto to stop himself from falling, but found nothing, except the cold hard ground and new, agonizing pain to race up his lower back. It didn't take much for him to realize something had stabbed deep into his back, and combined with the numbing agent wearing off, his body was awash with pain. Raw agony that was gripping enough to render movement practically impossible.
…
A pained sigh left him. He brought his console to his remaining eye and flipped the protective cover up, entering in a code no Yautja dared to enter. In his current state, escape was next to impossible. Inevitably, the fighting would come to a halt, and the humans would find him. They attain the technology he foolishly left behind in his haste, or, worse yet, attain him. The dishonor he felt was immense, and so the only logical choice was to baptize the city in plasma and wipe away his error. Wipe himself away.
He could hear it now. The steady, piercing call of his console counting down. His ship was gathering power, and was going to explode, and take the city, its inhabitants, and him out. Resting his head back, the broken hunter closed his eye.
His regrets were plentiful, but it didn't matter now. Nothing did, save for preserving what little honor he had left. And, thus, when the explosion came, he felt it long before he heard it, and everything went dark.
He felt indescribable pain. Was this what the afterlife was like? Raw agony and pain?
No…it couldn't be. The dead felt no pain, which meant he was alive…he, somehow, survived it. Survived the blast meant to eradicate himself and the city.
Pushing up with his arm, the injured hunter realized he was trapped beneath something. Rubble, no doubt. He kept pushing with what dismal strength remained until he felt light pierce his eye. He breached the surface and soon emerged from the ground to witness the destruction he caused.
It was…catastrophic. The city was reduced to nothing, except ruined buildings, charred roads, and the remnants of what was once a good hunting ground. The sun rose in the distance, almost as if it were mocking him for his survival.
A hum filled his ear. He turned to watch a ship close in…his clan's vessel.
Panic shot through him. The clan no doubt knew about his blunder and were coming to personally issue judgement. What could he do? Flee? In his injured state, they'd merely cut him down. Should he explain what happened? They'd still cut him down for the insolence of revealing himself, or even exile him! Why were the Gods cruel enough to let him survive?!
The ship landed. The ramp dropped down and several more hunters stepped out, approaching him…along with the clan's elder. He wore ornate, highly decorated armor, with his cape flowing freely behind him. He lacked a mask, as did most elders, which allowed the injured hunter to personally see his furious, enraged eyes.
So, the wounded hunter did the only rational thing. He fell to his knees, head hung low, and awaiting execution.
"Vudke," The elder growled his name. "Do you know what you've done?" It was a rhetorical question. He knew well what he had done.
"…I failed in my hunt. Execution awaits me."
"Hmph," He heard the elder snarl. "Get up. Your fate shall be determined in the vessel, where all can see your disgrace." That was a punch to his gut, yet he obediently rose and walked towards the ship, ascending the ramp and entering the vessel, where he could feel the gazes of many other hunters. Looking up gave him a myriad of reactions: some were shocked to see him in such a state, other furious over what he had done, but more importantly, there was not one friendly face among them.
They all wanted to see him face punishment for his disgrace. So, Vudke said a silent prayer to his Gods as he stood in the center of the room.
"Not only did you let yourself be seen, Vudke," He heard the elder growl. "and destroyed precious hunting grounds, but you survived the explosion. You could have perished with a shred of honor, yet here you stand, marinated with the stench of disgrace and dishonor." The elder stamped his glaive against the ground. "Simply killing you would be a mercy. And the dishonorable deserve no such thing!" He roared. The other hunters roared in agreement, and Vudke hung his head even lower.
"You are hereby EXILED, to the backwater desert planet of Drevos, where you shall spend eternity to atone for your dishonor. The only mercy you shall be given is healing before you are cast out. But, from there, you are no longer part of our clan." The others roared again in agreement, whereas Vudke kept his head down. It was all he could do, anyhow, considering he was given one of the harsher punishments his clan could issue.
He'd have preferred death.
Even with his closed and mended wounds Vudke still felt immense pain. Pain to his heart. Pain to his soul.
He stood on the course, rocky ground, watching the other hunters return to the ship. He wanted to believe this was a cruel nightmare, but it was real…he was being exiled. Abandoned on a planet and left to die. Death would have been far more preferably, for it meant he could die with a shred of dignity. He couldn't even take his own life, for there was no honor left to preserve!
A sigh left him as his gaze centered on the ship that was beginning to take off. The elder stood nearby the ramp, holding his glaive. His expression softened and he shook his head. "I had such high aspirations for you, Vudke." He growled. "Yet you squandered them, making the same mistakes youths like you always do. You got cocky, and now you must be made an example out of. I'm sorry, but this is the only thing that can be done." He wanted to speak against that, but the words died long before they left his maw. The elder sighed and stabbed the weapon into the ground, leaving it in the rough earth as he boarded the ship, and as quickly as it had landed, it was gone, Vudke watching its retreating form with a growing pit in his stomach.
Now what? What was there to do until age claimed him, though considering the oldest of their kin survived for millennia, he would be around to suffer through his disgrace for quite a while—
Hissing caught his attention. He turned to see several, bug-like creatures moving about, skittering towards him as if he were a morsel. A snarl left him, and he went for the glaive, wrenching it from the ground and twirling it. His blades jutted out too as the hunter stared the growing army of bugs down, a determined look plastered on his face.
If he was to go down here, he was to die fighting. Maybe then he could claim the honor he had lost.
The first of the bugs charged forward, and he eagerly met its approach in what was most likely to be his final hunt.
[To those asking what I had in mind when Happy Together concluded, THIS is what I had in mind. A retelling/novelization of Predator: Concrete Jungle. A strange take, yes, but it's for a good reason.
Recently, I've been trying to do a Predator novel, but I had to switch gears to an AvP one instead. The reason for this is I've recently gotten in touch with DH and they seem to be open to submissions so, I'm gonna see what happens. They still seem to post Predator based content, so AvP may still be viable. Plus, there's also a Predator novel already in development by someone else, so I'd rather not over-saturate the setting, and there hasn't been much AvP content in recent years, so…guess I have an opening.
As for why I'm doing this story, the Predator novel I had planned to develop and work on was heavily inspired by Concrete Jungle and the potential in the setting, so instead of letting that story die, I decided to simply…do this, so to speak. Considering how popular Happy Together was, I feel like this could be quite enjoyed as well, as people liked Concrete Jungle, but felt it could have been much more. So, time to work my magic once again.
I won't have a definitive update schedule for this one, not until next week at least. This chapter's just to cover the introduction and get things out there. So, enjoy; let's see where this new project takes us.]
